


A Moment You'll Never Remember

by mintedpotters



Series: Merlin Universe [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arthur Pendragon Is King, Canon Era, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Arthur Pendragon, Lancelot is alive, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Non-Canon Relationship, POV Alternating, Past Merlin/Lancelot - Freeform, Referenced Merlin/Lancelot, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintedpotters/pseuds/mintedpotters
Summary: Love seems to have finally stuck for Gwaine, Camelot's resident heart-breaker. He's truly happy, for once, and good for him, he's earned it. But things very rarely stay good in Camelot. A spell is cast over all of Camelot, wiping away the last five years worth of memories of everyone's favourite manservant/sorcerer, and Merlin himself seems to have disappeared.Lancelot is the only person who remembers Merlin, and so he must embark on a quest to find the young warlock and break the spell. And along the way, who knows what they'll discover about themselves.





	A Moment You'll Never Remember

**Author's Note:**

> HI okay so I got this idea really early this morning and I've basically been glued to my laptop all day to get it just right. I really hope you all enjoy it. This is my first (public) Merwaine fic, too, so. Hurray for first times.

Merlin often spent time in the afternoons – when Arthur deigned to give him time, of course – with Gwaine. They would walk together, without aim or purpose, around Camelot. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they wouldn’t. And sometimes, Gwaine would throw an easy arm around Merlin and tuck him against Gwaine’s side comfortably. Merlin enjoyed the casual contact, and the fact that Gwaine was really quite attractive didn’t hurt matters either.

But Merlin also knew Gwaine held one hell of a torch for Percival, and while he wouldn’t have minded something to come of his closeness with Gwaine, he knew his friends deserved to find happiness with each other instead. So, he pulled some strings (delicately), and made sure that Gwaine and Percival would be paired together on the longer patrols outside Camelot’s walls, or on the nightly patrols in the lower town.

One night, after the patrols had switched over, Gwaine paid Merlin a visit.

“What are you doing?” Gwaine asked in a whisper; the pair were in Merlin’s room above Gaius’ workshop, and the elder physician was sleeping soundly.

“You think I don’t know that you’re into Percy?” Merlin asked in return.

“It doesn’t matter, because he’s not into blokes,” Gwaine said, sounding vaguely upset.

“How do you know?”

“Because I bloody asked him,” Gwaine sighed. “We were walking the lower town, and you know nothing ever happens there anymore, so we had a minute of peace and I casually mentioned that _hey, Sir Leon’s pretty fit,_ and he looked at me and said that Leon wasn’t exactly _his type.”_

“Did you bother to ask what his type is, then?” Merlin asked. Gwaine looked so put out by the question, that Merlin already knew the answer.

“What’s the bloody point? Percival clearly isn’t interested, or he’d have made his move. You forget I travelled with him for a long time,” Gwaine said, hopelessness in his voice. “Is it so bad that I just… I want something that’s going to last longer than a night.”

Merlin moved closer and pulled his friend into a warm hug, one that he hoped conveyed his sympathy. Gwaine tucked his face into Merlin’s neck, and Merlin raised one hand to gently stroke his hair. Gwaine’s arms tightened around Merlin’s waist, pulling him in closer, until Merlin was practically sitting on Gwaine’s lap. Then Merlin felt soft lips against his neck.

“Gwaine…” Merlin whispered, his hand stopping in Gwaine’s hair.

“Please,” Gwaine murmured back, his breath warm on Merlin’s throat. “Please, Merlin…”

He shouldn’t… he should tell Gwaine to leave… he should let go of Gwaine… he shouldn’t… but he did. He pulled Gwaine’s head up with a loose grip in his hair, and kissed him gently.

One kiss turned into many more, which turned into a loss of clothes and coherent thought and _oh,_ so much pleasure… Merlin almost thought he’d shatter apart with the way Gwaine touched him, like he was precious.

And when they fell asleep, they did so tangled together, with Merlin’s blanket covering them both at the waist. Merlin pressed a sleepy, sated kiss to the centre of Gwaine’s chest, and felt Gwaine return the affection with a kiss to his head. He fell asleep smiling.

\---

The next morning was… well. It was morning, in Camelot. Merlin woke first, registered the angle of the sun, and sighed, knowing he would be late to attend to his king if he stayed in bed with his knight. Said knight was still fast asleep, with his soft hair fanned out on the pillow, and his mouth wide open. Merlin smiled down at him, and kissed his forehead gently.

He got up and dressed as silently as possible, before finally waking Gwaine up. The look on Gwaine’s face as he stared up at Merlin made his chest clench up. Gwaine looked so fond… Merlin had to wonder if he’d been wrong about Gwaine’s feelings for Percival.

“I have to go,” Merlin said, in a quiet voice. He sat on the edge of the bed, and let his hand rest on Gwaine’s flat stomach. “Arthur will have my head if I’m late again.”

“Is it awful I almost wish you were my servant?” Gwaine teased. “Then I could demand that you never leave me.” Despite the joking words, there was an underlying tone of worry.

“Really, if I thought that clotpole could survive without my assistance, I’d never let you out of this bed,” Merlin admitted. It earned him a sly grin. “But I do have to go.”

“Do I at least get a good-morning kiss?” Gwaine asked, his hand taking hold of Merlin’s where it lay on his stomach. Merlin laughed softly at his antics, but leaned down to kiss Gwaine tenderly. When he pulled away, Gwaine was smiling.

“Now you’ve made me late,” Merlin sighed, acting aggrieved, just to hear Gwaine laugh.

“Tell his royal highness that he’d better not leave any bruises on you. That’s my job now,” Gwaine said, giving Merlin a cheeky wink. Merlin rolled his eyes and left the room, sparing a grateful smile for Gaius, who was standing by their dining table with a sandwich ready to go. Merlin glanced behind him at the closed bedroom door and then cut the sandwich in half with magic, much to the disapproval of his mentor.

“Gwaine stayed the night,” Merlin said by way of explanation. “Thought I should at least be slightly courteous, don’t you agree?”

“Hm,” Gaius said, raising his eyebrow. “You might want to remember your neckerchief, Merlin.”

Merlin grabbed the scrap of fabric off the table, where he’d left it the night before.  He tied it loosely about his neck and took one half of the sandwich, muttering a hurried _thanks_ to Gaius before rushing off to deal with Arthur’s inevitable tantrum.

\---

Arthur groaned loudly as sunlight infiltrated his comfortable half-sleeping state.

“Go away, Merlin, I’m _sleeping,”_ he groaned. The laughter he heard in response was most definitely _not Merlin’s._ Arthur squinted in the direction of the windows, to see the silhouette of his wife. “Gwen? Why are you opening the curtains? That’s Merlin’s job.”

“Yes, but Merlin is apparently running late, and I was already awake,” Gwen said. She walked back over to the bed and sat neatly on the edge by Arthur’s hip. “He’ll be here with breakfast soon.” Just as she finished speaking, Arthur heard the door to his chambers open. He heard the tray being set down at the table, amid muffled cursing, and then hurried footsteps toward his bed. Merlin came around the corner just as Arthur sat up to fix him with a supremely unhappy glare.

“I’m sorry, really, I just got caught up, and – you don’t care, right, gotcha,” Merlin said, correctly translating the look on Arthur’s face. _He’s had enough practice,_ Arthur supposed.

“Arthur, don’t be so harsh on him,” Gwen warned gently. She turned to Merlin. “He’s upset because I woke him up.”

“Oh, this isn’t _upset,”_ Merlin scoffed. “When he’s really _upset_ about being woken up, he throws his pillows. Then he sulks because he threw all his pillows and he has none left.”

“I do not _sulk!”_ Arthur interrupted, offended.

“Oh, yes you do,” Merlin said. Gwen stifled a laugh.

“I do not, and I resent the accusation!”

“You _do,_ and I resent the pillows getting tossed at my head,” Merlin retorted.

“You deserve to have things thrown at your head!” Arthur argued.

“Well, then, I suppose you won’t be wanting your breakfast this morning,” Merlin changed tactics swiftly. Bringing food into the argument this early in the morning was just unfair. “My lady, would you like some sausages? Perhaps some eggs, as well?”

“I’d _love_ some, Merlin, how generous of you,” Gwen said, playing along, and Arthur _really_ hated when his wife and his servant teamed up against him, just because they were _friends_ …

“My lord, for your breakfast we have something truly special. Rat stew, your favourite,” Merlin grinned cheekily. Arthur threw a pillow at him.

\---

Gwaine had a spring in his step all day. Of course, it helped that he was on patrol that night with Arthur, which meant of course, Merlin would be tagging along. The other knights – Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Lancelot – were all present as well, but Gwaine could only concentrate on Merlin’s slim frame slipping through the trees to collect firewood when they stopped to make camp. At one point during the evening, after supper, Merlin crouched by the fire, rubbing his hands together in front of the flames. Gwaine followed him over and sat close beside him. Merlin sat back and leaned against him just slightly, so their shoulders pressed together warmly.

Gwaine knew they couldn’t risk much, but he also knew that the knights were aware of his particular friendship with Merlin. Lancelot was the one Gwaine was most worried about finding out; he and Merlin had some sort of _bond,_ forged long ago, before Gwaine had come to Camelot. Gwaine had no promises that Lancelot wouldn’t try to defend Merlin’s honour. Personally, he thought Merlin could defend his own honour perfectly well, if the scratch marks on his back were anything to go by.

But still, he risked it. Gwaine took Merlin’s thin hands between his own larger ones and rubbed warmth into them carefully. Merlin blushed, but Gwaine couldn’t tell if it was because of the attention or because he was so close to the fire. Gwaine’s hands slowed in their work, the motions turning into gentle caresses, and Merlin’s blush deepened. _Definitely the attention, then,_ Gwaine decided, satisfied.

The rest of the knights came closer to the fire, and Gwaine reluctantly let go of Merlin’s hands. Merlin stood and collected everyone’s bowls, stacking them precariously to be washed. Gwaine almost – _almost_ – volunteered to help.

He was in deep and it had only been one day.

\---

Merlin returned to the campsite after cleaning the dishes (some by magic, but no one needed to know that), and found his spot by Gwaine still empty. He sat carefully, after putting the dishes away in his pack. Gwaine immediately shifted on the log so his knee pressed lightly against Merlin’s.

Across the fire, Merlin thought he saw a glare flicker over Arthur’s face, but he dismissed the idea as a trick of the light.

With all the knights distracted and talking amongst themselves, Merlin let himself relax and lean slightly against Gwaine’s side. Soon enough, relaxing turned into him trying to stifle his yawns, and his eyelids drooping heavily. Gwaine noticed, and excused the pair of them from the fire to help Merlin set out the bedrolls. Gwaine deliberately set out Merlin’s first, and his own right beside it.

“You get into bed, I’ll set out the others’,” Gwaine insisted.

“It’s my job, Gwaine,” Merlin protested.

“And you can barely stand up,” Gwaine retorted. He placed his hands gently on Merlin’s shoulders. “Go to bed, Merlin. I know what I’m doing.” He glanced behind him, at the knights and at their King, all of whom were involved in their own conversations, and decided to risk it. He pressed a chaste kiss to Merlin’s lips, and then ushered him over to his bedroll. When Merlin laid down, it caught the attention of the other knights, mostly Lancelot and Arthur. They both looked at Merlin, curled up on his side, and then over at Gwaine, who was unfurling the other knights’ bedrolls, and then at each other, with raised eyebrows.

They knew.

\---

Arthur wasn’t _watching_ Merlin, no matter what some knights might have to say on the matter. He was merely… taking care to observe his manservant in his daily duties, to ensure that each task was being completed… completely. That sounded like a reasonable and kingly reason, right?

Whatever, Arthur wasn’t watching. And he _certainly_ didn’t pay extra attention when Gwaine was in the vicinity. And he _absolutely did not_ come up with longer and more convoluted new patrol routes specifically for Gwaine and Percival to walk at night, effectively keeping Gwaine away from Merlin when Arthur couldn’t observe them.

No, Arthur was just… concerned that Merlin’s tasks were being neglected, that was all. Nothing else.

\---

Gwaine sneaked into Merlin’s room again three days after the first time. Merlin was asleep, but barely, so Gwaine nudged him awake and asked in a whisper if he could stay the night. Merlin, being far too exhausted from the day’s workload, simply rolled over and made space for Gwaine to lay behind him. Gwaine shucked his boots, socks, trousers, and tunic, and slid into bed in naught but his smalls. He wrapped a strong, warm arm around Merlin’s waist and pulled him close. Merlin was already halfway back to sleep, and Gwaine was content to curl up and match his breaths until he, too, fell asleep.

\---

The next morning, Gwaine woke in an empty bed, without Merlin. There was, however, a note on the side table.

_Gwaine,_

_I’m sorry, I had to rush this morning. Arthur wanted to run a new drill before practice, and you know how he gets when I’m late._

_There should be a sandwich in the workshop waiting for you._

_I’ll make it up to you tonight, in your rooms?_

_-M._

_P.S; your morning kiss will have to wait, Sleeping Beauty_

Gwaine grinned at the note; he folded it neatly and, once he was dressed, carried it back to his own room. He hid it inside a book in his drawer. Then he raced off to practice with a smile on his face.

\---

Gwaine caught Merlin’s eye as soon as he stepped off the training pitch. Merlin was adjusting the straps on Arthur’s armour, but he smiled fondly over at Gwaine, who returned the smile widely, and tapped two fingers over his heart. Merlin blushed and turned his focus back to Arthur’s armour. Gwaine chuckled to himself and carried on with his usual routine.

Later that day, he ran into Lancelot.

“Someone’s chipper today,” Lancelot noted.

“It’s a good day,” Gwaine shrugged, still smiling.

“You’re never this happy unless you’re drunk,” Lancelot said. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m just happy, Lance,” Gwaine said. He flicked his hair back out of his face.

“You’re not _just happy,_ Gwaine, that’s the look of a besotted man,” Lance grinned. “So, who is she?”

“None of your business, that’s who,” Gwaine rolled his eyes. Then, a young page ran up to them, interrupting their conversation.

“Sir Gwaine? His Highness King Arthur requests your presence in his chambers,” the boy rattled off. Gwaine sighed.

“I’ll be right there, thank you.” He watched as the page scurried away. Then he turned to Lance with a grimace. “Duty calls.”

He left Lancelot behind and jogged toward the King’s rooms, wondering all the while what he could’ve possibly done to earn a summons. It was only when he knocked on the door that he remembered where exactly Merlin usually worked. Sure enough, Merlin was the one who opened the door.

“Arthur summoned me?” Gwaine asked in an undertone.

“I don’t know, he called me in from the stables,” Merlin said, just as puzzled. He led Gwaine over to the table, where Arthur sat, with a stony expression on his face.

“Have a seat,” Arthur gestured to the chairs around the table. Gwaine sat; Merlin didn’t. Arthur sighed heavily. “I meant _both_ of you, _Mer_ lin,” he said. Merlin watched him warily, but pulled out a chair and sat beside Gwaine. Arthur considered them both for a long, silent moment. “It has been brought to my attention, by sources unnamed, that you’ve gotten yourself a new paramour, Sir Gwaine.”

“You know how rumours spread in the castle, sire, one wrong step and everyone knows about it,” Gwaine said.

“So, you deny the claims?”

“No,” Gwaine said, with a firm gaze. “I’m not ashamed of it, either.”

“Right,” Arthur said. “Do these claims have anything to do with, perhaps, the rumour that you’ve been staying the night in Merlin’s chambers, when you have your own perfectly suitable chambers right down the hall?”

Merlin blushed heavily, looking down at his hands on the tabletop. Gwaine nudged his knee under the table, and he looked up.

“Those rumours aren’t without some truth,” Merlin managed at last.

“So,” Arthur said, sitting back in his chair, a flash of _something_ in his eyes. “You’re sleeping together, then?”

“Actually, Arthur, I intend to court Merlin,” Gwaine announced. It was something he’d though about in abundance over the last week. He loved the way being with Merlin felt, like everything was light and easy, and there was nothing to worry about. Sure, the sex was great too, but Gwaine wanted to be able to treasure the gentle moments as well. Beside him, Merlin froze, and watched him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Gwaine smiled at him fondly, and placed a hand over Merlin’s on the table. “If he’ll have me, of course.”

“You want to court me?” Merlin whispered, shocked. Arthur couldn’t even formulate a response of his own, he could only sit and watch.

“Yes, I do,” Gwaine answered. “This week has been the happiest of my life, with the exception, perhaps, of my first time in Camelot.”

“You nearly died, because of us,” Merlin said, a frown on his face.

“I don’t care. I met you,” Gwaine replied. “So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to court you.”

“All right,” Merlin answered in a low voice, and Gwaine couldn’t stop the slow smile spreading out on his face. It was mirrored on Merlin’s lips too, and Gwaine suddenly really wanted to kiss him.

“Gwaine,” Arthur interrupted. “You’re a knight of Camelot.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Gwaine said, rolling his eyes.

“Knights cannot court servants,” Arthur said.

“But kings can marry them?” Gwaine asked, anger edging into his tone suddenly. It wasn’t _fair,_ he thought.

“You’re out of line,” Arthur warned.

“And you’re a hypocrite!”

“Gwaine,” Merlin spoke up, placing one careful hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “It’s the law.”

“So, he can change the law to marry Gwen but he won’t even bend it to let his friends be happy?” Gwaine asked, his tone bordering on vicious. Arthur looked away from his angry stare.

Merlin stood, bringing Gwaine with him, and led him back to the door. There, he hugged Gwaine tightly.

“I can’t believe you want to court me,” Merlin muttered into Gwaine’s hair.

“Is it really so unbelievable?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes. But in a good way,” Merlin assured him. “Will I see you tonight?”

“I hope so,” Gwaine said, holding him tighter.

“I’ll talk to him,” Merlin promised. “I’ll make him see sense.”

“I believe you,” Gwaine said. He released Merlin at last, throwing caution to the wind and kissing him chastely before letting himself out of the king’s chambers.

A few more hours, and he’d have Merlin all to himself.

\---

Merlin turned back to Arthur once the door closed behind Gwaine.

“All right, what’s the matter with you?” Merlin asked, annoyed.

“Nothing’s the _matter_ with me, Merlin,” Arthur answered.

“So why won’t you let Gwaine court me?”

“He’s a knight!”

“So are you!”

Silence.

“You broke the laws of Camelot for Gwen, because you loved her so much that you couldn’t be without her,” Merlin said.

“And that’s how you feel for Gwaine?”

“Yes,” Merlin said. Arthur nodded slowly, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Well then, if that’s how you feel, I have no place to say otherwise,” Arthur said at last. “You may tell Sir Gwaine that he has the king’s consent. And his friend’s apology.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin said, a smile breaking on his face.

“Yes, now go fetch my lunch, will you? I’m starving here,” Arthur said, impatient as always. Merlin grinned, and for the first time possibly ever, did as he was told.

\---

As it turned out, Gwaine’s idea of courtship was simple, but also painfully drawn-out. He wrote a letter of intent to Hunith, Merlin’s mother in Ealdor, asking for her blessing. Gwaine didn’t let Merlin read the letter, no matter how often nor how sweetly Merlin asked. He was allowed to read his mother’s response, however, with Gwaine wrapped around him comfortably in bed. They stayed in Gwaine’s chambers for the most part, and it was entirely Gwaine’s fault that Merlin was late to work more than he was on time.

(Gwaine had a suspicion that Merlin wouldn’t actually get the sack anyway; Arthur clearly valued Merlin’s opinion, even if he didn’t truly appreciate Merlin’s hard work.)

One day, late in the summer, Merlin returned to Gwaine’s chambers, looking distraught. Lancelot was helping him to walk. Merlin’s left arm was over Lance’s shoulders, and his right arm cradled his own midsection. Gwaine rushed over to help as soon as he saw them.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Fucking _sorcerer,”_ Merlin hissed as he moved too quickly, apparently pulling on whatever injury he’d received. He sat gingerly on the edge of Gwaine’s bed, _their_ bed. Gwaine knelt in front of him, and Lancelot stood behind Gwaine’s shoulder.

“That’s not a lot to go on,” Gwaine pressed. Merlin didn’t answer, but started shaking his head slowly from side to side. “Merlin?”

“Don’t,” Merlin gasped in pain. Gwaine looked to Lancelot in confusion, but his friend only looked resigned.

“You should tell him,” Lancelot said, and it took a moment for Gwaine to realise who Lancelot was speaking to.

“Can’t,” Merlin ground out.

“Merlin, you need help, you know what to do, you need to tell him,” Lancelot said. Gwaine frowned, looking between the two of them.

“Merlin… tell me. Whatever it is, it won’t change anything,” Gwaine swore.

“You can’t promise that,” Merlin sighed, obviously trying to talk around the pain.

“Please, Merlin, you’re worrying me,” Gwaine pleaded. Merlin winced, but nodded at last. He looked up and met Gwaine’s eyes, and Gwaine tried not to think about the pain and fear in the blue irises.

Then those blue irises turned gold.

Gwaine nearly leaped backward, but Lancelot stopped him.

“He’s a sorcerer,” Gwaine hissed at Lancelot, who was showing an awful _lack_ of reaction to such news. “You knew?”

“Lancelot has known for years,” Merlin said, sounding far less pained now. Gwaine turned back to him in time to see him stand and stretch, without a single trace of an injury. “I know this isn’t exactly what you were expecting,” Merlin started. “But you should know, I didn’t _learn_ this. I was born like this.”

“You were born with magic?” Gwaine asked, his voice hushed.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, Gwaine, you have no idea. But _someone_ was unsure of your ‘intentions’ toward me.” Merlin leaned around Gwaine to glare pointedly at Lancelot, who shrugged.

“You’re not like _her,_ are you? Like Morgana?” Gwaine asked.

“No. I’m nothing like Morgana,” Merlin said. Gwaine grinned then, and Merlin knew they’d be all right.

“Okay, now we’ve gotten that out of the way, do you think maybe we should do something about the sorcerer who just tried to kill you?” Lancelot interrupted. Merlin’s entire stature changed, turning him from the clumsy, loveable servant into something darker, something more dangerous, and something infinitely sexier. Gwaine decided right there that he was going to enjoy shagging a sorcerer.

\---

The danger had been eliminated, and Merlin had finally managed to drag himself away from Arthur for the night. He walked into Gwaine’s room quietly, knowing the knight was probably already asleep. Gwaine stirred as Merlin undressed, despite his best efforts to be silent.

“You are unbelievable,” Gwaine murmured into the dark room. He grabbed Merlin by the waist as soon as Merlin climbed into bed.

“You are insatiable,” Merlin teased in response.

“Seriously, Merlin,” Gwaine said. He let Merlin lay down, and then propped himself up on his elbow so he could gaze down at Merlin in the moonlit room. “You were incredible today.” Gwaine kissed him gently. The kiss escalated into something hungry and raw. Gwaine dipped his head to bite along Merlin’s throat, savouring the heady moan it earned. Merlin’s hands buried themselves in Gwaine’s hair, pulling so slightly.

“Totally insatiable,” Merlin teased, and broke off with a gasp when Gwaine’s mouth locked onto his collarbone.

“Only for you, my love,” Gwaine murmured into Merlin’s skin, and Merlin shivered with want at his words.

“Then take me,” Merlin sighed contentedly, arching up into Gwaine’s touch as he kissed down Merlin’s chest. Gwaine growled in response to Merlin’s words, and then words were meaningless.

\---

Arthur could count on one hand, the times that his manservant had actually arrived _on time_ for his duties since his courtship began with Gwaine. But it didn’t bother him, no matter what anyone might imply. He had Guinevere. He _loved_ Guinevere. As Merlin had pointed out a month ago, Arthur had broken the law for her, and then later, he’d _changed_ the law for her. He loved Guinevere. Of course, his love for his wife had nothing whatsoever to do with the behaviour of his manservant. Arthur didn’t even miss Merlin’s inane chatter as he worked. Now that usual chatter, mostly interspersed with complaints about his workload or gossip from the kitchens, was replaced with the most contented-looking smile, and the occasional humming. Arthur wasn’t bothered. The tightness in his chest was probably because he missed Gwen. That made sense.

\---

Gwaine and Percival were out late on patrol when it happened. A rolling fog, closing in from the lower town, heading toward the citadel. Percy and Gwaine turned to run - to ring the alarms, to do _something! -_ when the fog curled around their ankles. They fell to the ground, and as the fog swept over their bodies, they fell asleep.

\---

The morning was bright. Gwaine rolled over in bed and patted the mattress beside him. It was empty. He cracked his eyes open, and squinted around the room. There wasn’t a sign of anyone else having been there, so Gwaine shrugged and went back to sleep.

When he woke again, at least a couple of hours had passed. His room was still empty, and he had the distinct impression that it wasn’t meant to be. He climbed out of bed carefully, and got dressed. Then he went over to the window. Looking out, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Camelot was running as smoothly as ever. So, he tried to put the weird feeling out of his mind, and readied himself for morning training.

\---

Out on the pitch, he felt it again; that distinct impression that something was missing. He looked around, but couldn’t see anything obviously out of place. He tried to ignore it again. Then Lancelot approached him.

“Where’s Merlin? He should’ve been here by now,” Lancelot said.

“What?” Gwaine asked.

“Merlin. He isn’t here, I assumed he’d be with you,” Lancelot explained. Gwaine shook his head.

“Who’s Merlin?” Gwaine asked. Lancelot watched him very closely for a minute.

“You don’t remember Merlin?”

“Should I? Oh god, he’s not some long-lost son, is he?” Gwaine asked, with thinly veiled horror in his voice.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lancelot asked. Gwaine frowned. Then he turned to see King Arthur walking towards them, a meek-looking servant tottering along behind him. Lancelot jogged over to them. Gwaine followed him, curious to see what would happen.

“-find Merlin anywhere, Sire,” Lancelot was saying. “I’ve looked all over the place.”

“And that’s my problem because…?” The King drawled.

“Merlin’s your friend, sire, if I may be so bold, and he is our friend too,” Lancelot said.

“I don’t know anyone named Merlin, nor would I be friends with a servant,” Arthur said. “Perhaps you should see the physician. Maybe he can give you something for these delusions.”

“They aren’t delusions!” Lancelot protested. But his protests fell on deaf ears as King Arthur scoffed and turned away. The meek-mannered servant followed along after him, his eyes averted to the ground, and his hands trembling. Lancelot scowled, an expression Gwaine had never seen on his friend.

“Whoever this Merlin bloke is,” Gwaine said, “He must be awfully important to you, if you’re this upset by him running off.”

“Yes well, you’d be upset too, if you were in your right mind,” Lancelot spat. He stormed off toward the castle, and Gwaine sighed as he jogged after him.

\---

Lancelot opened the door to the Physician’s quarters a bit more forcefully than needed, and let out a huge sigh of relief when he laid eyes on Gaius, working steadfastly at his usual bench.

“Gaius!” Lancelot called out.

“Ah! Sir Lancelot, how good to see you. And Sir Gwaine, what a surprise,” Gaius smiled at them both. “What can I do for you both today?”

“Where’s Merlin?” Lancelot asked quickly, hoping beyond hope-

“Merlin? He’s in the woods, fetching some herbs for me. Why do you ask?” Gaius said.

“Because nobody remembers him,” Lancelot said. “Arthur doesn’t remember that Merlin’s his servant, _Gwaine_ doesn’t even remember that they’re courting. Not even the servants I’ve asked know who he is, and we know how much Merlin loves to chat.”

Gaius’ eyebrows raised well above his eyes, and Lancelot’s voice tapered off.

“Gaius, please tell me you know what I’m talking about,” Lancelot begged.

“Sir Lancelot… Merlin has been my apprentice since arriving in Camelot. He certainly has never been the King’s servant, and as for courtship, I do believe he still writes to Guinevere on occasion,” Gaius said. Lancelot’s stomach dropped. It was as if the last five years had never happened. So why wasn’t it affecting him?

“I’m sorry, Gaius, I need to go,” Lancelot said at last, turning on his heel and leaving the room quickly. He could hear Gwaine following him but he didn’t care. He went to the stables and readied a horse. Then he rode steadily out of Camelot.

He remembered once, years ago, on his first ever visit to Camelot, riding out with Merlin late at night. They rode to one specific spot, a clearing in the woods, only an hour’s ride from the citadel. It was their clearing, a place they would meet when Merlin was tired of Arthur, or when Lancelot was willing to risk visiting during his exile. It was the place where Merlin confided in Lancelot, where they shared their first kiss, and their last. It was where Merlin confided in him about his brief feelings for Arthur, and his feelings for Gwaine years later… the clearing was _their space._

Lancelot just hoped that this too, had not vanished along with the memory of Merlin.

\---

Gwaine watched from the parapet as Lancelot rode out of the city. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Lancelot had said in Gaius’ chambers. This Merlin fellow, whoever he was, had apparently been very dear to Lancelot, and apparently to him as well. Gwaine frowned, shaking his head as if to clear it. There was something _missing…_ if he could just put the pieces together, if he could see the full picture, he’d know what it was. His bed had been empty this morning. Why was that important?

\---

The clearing opened before him and Lancelot heaved a sigh of relief. It was still here, and if the clearing was here, Merlin _had_ to be. Lancelot walked the perimeter of the clearing, after tying his horse’s reins to a low-hanging branch. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his ears were tuned to the sounds of the forest, listening for any sound not made by an animal. To his left, he heard cracking twigs. He turned, crouching low as he unsheathed his sword, waiting…

Merlin burst through the trees.

\---

Mud and blood streaked Merlin’s skin, and his eyes landed on the crouching knight in front of him. Lancelot’s eyes betrayed his relief, and he very nearly put away his sword, until he recognised Merlin’s stance.

“Behind me,” Merlin croaked, and then pitched forward, landing face-down in the dirt; there was a dagger embedded in his back. Lancelot swore, and moved immediately to pull Merlin to safety, keeping an eye on the area Merlin had crashed through. He saw no sign of pursuit, so he lifted Merlin carefully onto his horse, mounted the saddle, and rode at a hard pace back to the castle.

\---

When Merlin woke next, he was in an unfamiliar room. Lancelot was by his bedside.

“Where am I?” Merlin croaked. Lancelot picked up a cup of water from the bedside table and handed it over. Merlin drank greedily.

“You’re in my house,” Lancelot answered. “No one in Camelot would attend to you.”

“What about Gaius?” Merlin asked, confusion knitting his brows together.

“Everyone in Camelot is under some sort of mind spell,” Lancelot said. “I took you to Gaius, and I tried to tell him what happened, but he sent us away. He accused me of making up cruel lies to hurt an old man. Those are his words.”

“But… he doesn’t know me?” Merlin asked.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I really am,” Lancelot sighed. “I tried everything I knew to make someone see to you.”

“So where are we now?”

“My house. In Ealdor,” Lancelot said, ducking his head. “I came here after my banishment. I couldn’t bear to be so far from you, but Ealdor is far enough that I wouldn’t have been executed for violating my exile.”

“So, instead, you bought a house in my old town,” Merlin said, with a ghost of a smile.

“Exactly,” Lancelot smiled. “Your mother was the one who attended to you.”

“Oh god… how bad was I?”

“You had a witch’s dagger in your back. It didn’t hit anything important, but you’re going to be in a _lot_ of pain for a while until your muscle heals properly. Other than that,” Lancelot said with a shrug. “Some minor cuts and bruises. It looks like someone really roughed you up.”

“Feels like it, too,” Merlin winced as he shifted.

“What happened to you?” Lancelot asked.

“I don’t know. One night, I’m waiting for Gwaine to come home from his patrol, and the next- wait, what about Gwaine?” Merlin interrupted himself. “Lance, what happened to Gwaine?”

“He doesn’t remember you, but he knows something isn’t right. I think he can probably break through the memory spell; _if_ that’s what it is,” Lancelot said. “Arthur doesn’t remember you either, and he seems to have reverted to his more brattish ways.”

“Oh, bloody wonderful! I put in ten years of work on that attitude of his!” Merlin huffed. “But Gwaine… he doesn’t remember anything?”

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Lancelot sighed.

“Well, we’re just going to have to figure it out ourselves, won’t we?” Merlin said. Lancelot grimaced and nodded determinedly.

\---

Armed with knowledge he Scried from his books in Gaius’s chambers, Merlin and Lancelot set out for Camelot. They reached the citadel after three days, and Merlin – using the town’s collective memory loss to his advantage – managed to secure a room in an inn, in the town beside the city. Lancelot’s job was to bring the Knights of the Round Table to Merlin, so he – disguised as _Dragoon,_ or, as he would introduce himself, Emrys – could reverse the spell on the knights’ memories.

According to Lancelot, the only memories that had been tampered with were ones in connection to Merlin, which begged the question, _how did Lancelot remember him?_

They tossed ideas and theories back and forth through their three-day journey, interspersed with strategy and contingency plans. There was always the risk that one of the knights would attempt to cut him down, especially disguised as Emrys, once their memories had returned to them. Lancelot also had the job of preventing that from happening. As they travelled, Merlin cast as many protective spells into Lance’s armour and his own robes as he could manage, without overwhelming himself.

Once the inn room was secured, Merlin also cast several calming spells into the walls, so the knights would feel relaxed when they entered, despite their military training. He set the small writing desk from the corner, into the centre of the room. He placed the accompanying chair behind it, and conjured another for the other side, where each knight would sit. His hope was to make this as unthreatening as possible.

Night fell over Camelot, and they decided to begin in the morning. Merlin had ordered a double room, so he and Lancelot could each have a bed to themselves. They settled in for the night, and Merlin doused the candles with a twitch of his finger.

\---

First, they decided to bring in Leon. He was the eldest knight, and Arthur’s most trusted. If anyone could convince Arthur to come, it would be Leon, but he needed his mind back first. Lancelot fetched him from his morning patrol, claiming there had been a fight in the nearby inn. Leon followed without much question, until he reached the room. When he entered, and felt Merlin’s calming spells, he drew his sword; his grip was slack, but he held on just enough to keep the sword from dropping to the floor.

“Sit down, Sir Leon,” Merlin said, disguised as an old man again.

“How do you know me?”

“I have known you many years,” Merlin said. “You are a good knight, fair and just.”

“And who might you be?” Leon asked warily, though his sword tip was slowly tipping toward the ground.

“I am, who I am. I am, who I was, and who I always shall be,” Merlin said.

“Thanks for the riddle, but really. What am I doing here?” Leon asked.

“There is a spell upon Camelot and her protectors. A memory spell,” Merlin said. “Please, sit.”

Leon sat, warily. He glanced at Lancelot behind him, who simply nodded.

“Why would you tell me about a spell upon Camelot?”

“Because it has affected your mind. Yours, and all the Knights of Camelot,” Merlin said. “Save one.” He nodded toward Lancelot. “Your memories have been tampered with.”

“How so?”

“Do you remember Merlin?” Merlin asked, watching Leon’s face desperately for recognition.

“Who is that?” Leon asked after a moment of thought. Merlin’s shoulders slumped fractionally.

“He is a friend. He has been King Arthur’s manservant for ten years, and a friend to the knights for equally as long. He is a part of King Arthur’s great destiny, and he is more important than anyone can ever know,” Lancelot intercepted. “Sometimes that even includes himself.”

“You sound besotted, Lancelot,” Leon said.

“I was, once,” Lancelot said.

“You say he was the king’s manservant, but Gerard has been Arthur’s servant for years now,” Leon spoke again. “That little shy boy, you remember?”

“Leon, I had never seen that boy before in my life until that day at the training grounds,” Lancelot argued. “And if you really think about it, neither have you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, how can someone just _appear_ out of nowhere like that?” Leon asked.

“Gerard, or whoever he is, is a sorcerer,” Merlin said. “He would have to be extremely powerful to tamper with everyone’s memories, and to do so, _so_ specifically? That takes a lot of control.”

“So, what are we waiting around here for? Let’s go catch the traitor and string him up!” Leon raged, jumping to his feet.

“Sir Leon, please, we haven’t finished,” Merlin said. Leon sat down again, narrowing his eyes at Merlin.

“Who are you?” Leon asked again. “And no riddles this time.”

“The druids call me Emrys,” Merlin said.

“What do you call yourself?” Leon asked.

“Emrys.”

\---

After a lot more talking, Leon finally consented to let Merlin perform the counter-spell. Once it was done, they sat him down again. This time, Merlin was himself. Leon recognised him this time and berated him for running off and leaving everyone else to deal with Arthur’s temper. Merlin let Lancelot explain that they needed the other knights, and the pair split up to collect them all.

Lancelot returned with Gwaine and Percival, who both looked wary, but not hostile. (Merlin’s heart seized up in his chest at the sight of Gwaine, but that was another matter for another day.) Leon returned with Elyan and Arthur. (Merlin nearly wept at the open look of contempt on Arthur’s face.)

Leon and Lancelot explained to the others as best they could that their memories had been tampered with, while Merlin – disguised once more as Emrys – listened and watched the knights’ reactions. Percival and Elyan seemed to be the least upset about their memories being played with; Gwaine turned a rather unpleasant shade of green and started to shake; Arthur simply turned as red as the Camelot cloaks and swore vengeance on whoever did this. Merlin had to bite his tongue then to stop himself from snapping at Arthur like would normally do. He wasn’t Merlin just then, and Arthur didn’t know who Merlin was anyway; snapping right now would only earn him a night in the stocks, _if_ he was lucky.

Lancelot explained that the Sorcerer Emrys would lift the memory spell one at a time. There was an argument about that, of course, from Arthur, about whether the sorcerer could be trusted. The compromise was the they could all stay in the room together, but they would be unarmed and sitting apart. Lancelot explained that passing out was one of the effects of the counter-spell, so they’d all need enough space. Eventually they settled on having two knights per bed; one at the head, one at the tail, so they could each fall back and only hit the mattress.

Arthur was the wariest of the compromise, but he was the first to lay down his sword.

He and Gwaine took one bed (ironically, it was Merlin’s), and Elyan and Percival took the other. Leon placed himself behind Percival and Elyan, while Lancelot stood behind Arthur and Gwaine. Under different circumstances, he would almost find it funny that the three men he loved most were all situated around his bed, when only one of them actually knew who he was. He shared a look with Lancelot, who shrugged.

Arthur volunteered to go first.

\---

It was dark, probably still too early for the sun to have risen. Arthur groaned tiredly. He waited for the inevitable flash of light behind his lids, the flash that usually heralded the arrival of his useless servant, Merlin-

_“Merlin!”_ Arthur shouted, sitting bolt upright. Around him were his knights, all watching him with concerned eyes, save for Lancelot, who watched with a look of victory in his eyes. Off to his right, standing well away from the beds, was a crotchety old man.

“Your memories are back, then, Sire?” The old man asked.

“It would seem so,” Arthur said. “Where is Merlin?”

“He is… unsure of his safety,” the old man said. “He will return once your knights’ memories have been fixed, and once the culprit has been captured.”

“Are you holding him ransom, you petty old man?” Arthur asked, outraged.

“Not at all,” he said. “This is Merlin’s decision. If you will not believe me, perhaps ask Sir Leon or Sir Lancelot. I’ve been informed that they are both close with Merlin. If you will not believe the word of a sorcerer, I trust that you will take the word of your knights.”

“He’s telling the truth, Sire,” Lancelot said. “I wouldn’t lie to you about Merlin.”

“All right, I trust your word and your judgement, Sir Lancelot,” Arthur said warily.

“Might I be permitted to continue, my Lord?” The old man asked, gesturing to the rest of the knights. Arthur nodded. The old man turned to Percival; he muttered some odd-sounding words, waved a hand over Percival’s head, and then Percival fell backwards in a dead slump. Arthur was ready to swing at the old sorcerer until Lancelot placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and shook his head. Percival groaned a second later, sitting up and rubbing at his head.

“Well?” Arthur asked.

“I remember this horrible fog… I was on patrol, with Gwaine… it encased the lower town… covered us and moved onto the citadel,” Percival said, frowning. Meanwhile, the old sorcerer worked on Elyan. Then finally… finally he turned to Gwaine. If Arthur didn’t know better, he’d say the man was stalling for time with the way he shuffled his feet and checked on Percival and Elyan over his shoulder.

Finally, he performed his spell on Gwaine, and Arthur got to watch as his eyes turned gold as he spoke. Gwaine fell backwards onto the bed, and the old man turned away. When Gwaine woke, the first word that fell from his lips was Merlin’s name, in that soft reverential sigh reserved only for lovers.

Then he woke fully, and gasped aloud.

“Where is Merlin!?” He shouted.

“Merlin is somewhere safe. He is quite possibly the best protected man in all of Camelot right now,” Merlin said carefully. “He will return to you soon, I swear.”

“Where did he _go!”_ Gwaine shouted. “I was only gone for a few hours! Where did he go?”

“GWAINE!” Arthur boomed, shutting Gwaine right up. “I know you’re upset, but this is not the time.”

“Not the _time?!_ Would it be any different if it was the love of _your_ life who was missing?” Gwaine shouted, and then froze.

“The love of your life?” Lancelot asked. Gwaine nodded mutely. “Well then, we’d better hurry up and get this fixed. The faster we catch the sorcerer responsible, the faster Merlin can return.”

\---

Merlin was glued to the spot at Gwaine’s words. _Love of your life…_ did he mean that? And if he did, what did _Merlin_ think of that? Could Gwaine be the love of _his_ life, too? Merlin would have to tell him everything, prophecy and all. How would Gwaine react to knowing Merlin was destined to be someone else’s _other half?_ Merlin didn’t know. So instead, he returned his attention to the task at hand, finding the sorcerer.

Arthur stepped toward him carefully, keeping his distance warily, as he was still unarmed.

“Can you find him?”

“Probably. But if I can find him, he can find me. This room is protected; he won’t see any of you, or me so long as we stay here. But to see him I will have to leave the room. Which means once I’ve spotted him we will have about five minutes to catch him. _That_ is your window. If you miss it, we might not find him again,” Merlin warned. Arthur’s mouth hardened and he nodded resolutely.

“That sorcerer, whoever he is, took my best friend from me. I will see him hanged for this,” Arthur said grimly, and Merlin’s heart stuttered. He was long over his crush on the young King, but his conviction and passion had always drawn Merlin to him. It was no different now, even when his heart belonged to someone else. Merlin glanced at Gwaine, deep in conversation with Lancelot, and supressed a smile.

“When you find him,” Merlin said, “Don’t execute him immediately. Merlin will want to speak with him.”

\---

In the end, they found the sorcerer; Gerard, the meek-mannered manservant who had stolen Merlin’s position in the household. Arthur had him locked away in the dungeons, clapped in cold iron, so his magic was useless. Now they just had to get Merlin back.

\---

Gwaine paced the room impatiently. Lancelot was sitting on one of the beds, watching his friend. Gwaine kept shooting glares at the door, as if it would open and produce Merlin simply by the power of his anger alone.

“Perhaps you should sit down,” Lancelot suggested.

“Perhaps you should shut up,” Gwaine grumbled back, but he did sit at the edge of the second bed. His knee bounced anxiously. He ran a hand through his hair roughly. Suddenly, the door opened. Gwaine was on his feet in a heartbeat, and in the next second, he had a thin, crying Merlin wrapping his arms around Gwaine’s shoulders. Gwaine sucked in a breath and held Merlin tightly, cradling his head with one hand, and his other arm wove around Merlin’s slim waist. Merlin was crying into his shoulder, and Gwaine covered the side of Merlin’s head and neck with tender kisses.

The pair barely noticed when Lancelot sneaked out, closing the door behind him.

\---

“Where did you go?” Gwaine asked a while later, as he and Merlin lay close together on one of the beds.

“I don’t know. One moment I was waiting for you to come home, and the next, I was in the middle of the woods,” Merlin said.

“I’m so sorry I forgot you, Merlin,” Gwaine whispered.

“You didn’t choose to forget me,” Merlin said. “And you said you could feel something missing, didn’t you?”

“Yes… it was like, someone had snipped out a corner of the sky. You know it’s supposed to be there, but it’s not,” Gwaine said.

“Gwaine…” Merlin held him tighter and realised the truth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Gwaine promised. He kissed Merlin gently, and put as much of his love into the kiss as he could. “I’m never going to forget you again,” Gwaine said, a smile on his face.

“I should hope not,” Merlin teased back easily. He brushed Gwaine’s hair out of his face, smoothing it away and tucking it behind Gwaine’s ear. Merlin laid his head on Gwaine’s chest, pressing a loving kiss above his heart, and let the sound of Gwaine’s breaths lull him to sleep.

\---

The next day, Merlin went to meet Gerard. He took Lancelot and Gwaine with him, as Arthur insisted that he take someone. (Merlin had already vetoed Arthur’s attendance; the boy had Druid markings, and his name was going to be mentioned. He didn’t need that particular fight just then.)

“Ah, look! The king’s men,” Gerard laughed when they entered the dungeon. “Oh, Emrys… you’ve got them all on the string, don’t you?” Merlin saw Gwaine freeze slightly, but he ignored it for the time being.

“Why did you erase me from everyone’s memories?” Merlin started. Gerard tipped his head.

“It was fun, next question,” Gerard said.

“It will certainly be fun to watch you hang for your crimes against Camelot and her people,” Merlin responded, calm as you please. “However, I have some sway with the King. Tell me who sent you, and I might persuade him to be merciful.”

“Persuade him? In the same manner as you _persuaded_ these noble knights to love you?” Gerard asked. “Do they know what you are, Emrys?”

“Yes,” Merlin responded. “Tell me who sent you.”

“Tell me why you betrayed your kin.”

“I betrayed no one.”

“Morgana would disagree.”

“Morgana brought her doom upon herself, as did Morgause,” Merlin said. His voice was low and powerful, and it sent shivers down Gwaine’s spine. “I did only what I had to do, to protect this city and her King.”

“You’re weak,” Gerard said. “You claim to have so much power. Yet you cower behind a King’s crown. Do they know what you can do? What you are destined to be?”

Merlin stayed silent.

“The most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth. A man who commands life and death. A warlock who can wreak havoc on the earth, rip apart the sky, and drain the oceans. A Dragonlord,” Gerard’s eyes shone. “All that power… you could do so much. Yet you hide here in a place that does not respect you.”

“I may have power, Gerard, but my power has purpose. I have a destiny to fulfil, and you would do well to stay out of my way,” Merlin said, lowly.

“You can have power, Emrys, it will not matter,” Gerard said. “King Arthur will meet his end. The Noble Knights will fall, and you… you will face your worst enemy, Merlin. And you will lose everything you hold dear. And I will watch from the other side and laugh as you finally get what you deserve.”

Merlin’s eyes were cold and empty as he stared down at Gerard.

“But I will have the pleasure of watching you die first.”

Then he turned on his heel and left the dungeon, Lancelot and Gwaine following in his wake. Gerard started screaming as they turned the corner. Merlin didn’t even blink.

\---

Two weeks after Gerard’s execution, and the Knights of the Round Table were assembled. Gaius sat among them, as did Queen Guinevere. Merlin’s hands shook as he took his seat on Arthur’s right. Gwaine gave him a reassuring smile; Lancelot nodded at him calmly.

Arthur turned to him, and made a gesture to the centre of the table which clearly meant, _get on with it then._ Merlin took a deep breath, lifted his left hand, palm up, and his eyes flashed gold. From his hand, several tiny will-o’-the-wisps flew across the table, frolicking and dancing on the wooden surface.

“On this day,” Arthur started, “We appoint a new position on the High Council of Camelot. We appoint Merlin, as Court Sorcerer. All in favour say aye.”

Every voice around the table lifted in a symphony of acceptance, and Merlin wanted to weep. Instead, he decided to show off a little, and turned the will-o’-the-wisps into golden sparks, which flew up and together to form the Pendragon crest. Arthur rolled his eyes, Gwaine laughed, and Lancelot just shook his head in fond exasperation.

“Merlin’s duties will be discussed after this morning’s Council business,” Arthur said. Merlin ceased his little light show, and smiled satisfactorily around the table.  

Merlin had been terrified about telling Arthur about his magic, but Gwaine and Lancelot had agreed after the talk with Gerard that he could no longer keep it secret _and_ protect his King. So, they had gone with him, and together, they told Arthur. Inevitably, Arthur had wanted proof, and so Merlin performed the same trick, creating the Pendragon crest out of sparks. Gwaine and Lancelot had watched him proudly. Arthur had looked stricken. He gave Merlin a week off, and had hired George for the time. (In the end, Merlin only got three days off, because Arthur was about ready to behead George if the man kept talking about brass polishing).

But now, sitting at the Round Table, at Arthur’s side, Merlin was glad he’d told him. He looked across the table to meet Gwaine’s eyes. The knight smiled and tapped two fingers against his chest, their way of saying _I love you,_ when words couldn’t be used. (It also made Merlin blush terribly, and Merlin was convinced that’s why Gwaine did it so often). Lancelot watched them all with fond eyes, and hummed contentedly to himself under his breath.

It seemed like things would really be okay.

\---


End file.
